


As I've Learned to My Sorrow

by BreTheWriter



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreTheWriter/pseuds/BreTheWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is illogical that Sarek should miss his wife this much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I've Learned to My Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this fanart.](http://fuckthis-shititsmylife.tumblr.com/post/63520946026/some-people-think-that-sarek-was-a-mean-father-i) I got a SERIOUS amount of feels over this...

It is completely illogical how much he misses her. 

Sarek is a Vulcan, and of course everyone knows that Vulcans do not feel emotions. But then, everyone knows a lot of things about Vulcans that are not true. That they cannot lie. That they do not care. That they propogate their race via mail-order (he is actually not certain if that is something someone actually believes or if it was intended as a joke). 

Time heals all wounds, the Council has told him. And certainly it is not logical to mourn only one when an entire world has been destroyed. So many were lost. 

Yet now, almost a year later, while the ten thousand survivors of the destruction of Vulcan have resettled on New Vulcan, while the remains of a race once six billion strong have moved on and seem to have forgotten, he still mourns for his wife. 

Amanda Greyson. A fine woman, and a beautiful one. He loved her. Oh, yes, he loved her very dearly, and he loves her yet. It has always been an illogical response, but it is a genuine one. And she loved him. She told him so, often, more often, perhaps, than Sarek had expected. At least at first. Within five years, she had learned much of the Vulcan way. She respected him, she honored him--and she loved him, which was why she had tried so hard to learn the culture of a new race. 

And now she is gone. 

And he is alone. 

He stares at the bag. It is the only thing he has remaining of her, all he was able to take away from Vulcan, a bag she had thrown together before they entered the Ark, a bag she had given him when their son had arrived. As if even then, she had known she would not leave the planet. He has no idea what is in it. He did not watch her pack it. And he has never unpacked it. 

Perhaps today is the day. He does not know why, but for some reason, thoughts of his wife are particularly strong today. With trembling fingers, he opens the bag. 

At first he does not recognize what he brings out--a dried bunch of flowers, sealed in some sort of envelope. But then he looks closer, sees the ribbon twined about the fragile stems, and he remembers. It is the bouquet he gave her when he first met her. She has kept it for nearly forty years. 

His heart begins to beat more quickly as he looks. It is typical of a human, he finds, that she brought things merely of sentimental value rather than practical value, but he does not care, because this is what he has left of Amanda, this will keep her close to him. Her grandmother's wedding ring, worn with years. A small jar of dirt, taken from the spot where their son was born. A few carefully preserved scraps of fabric, from her wedding robe and his, from the baby blanket, from outfits he can scarcely remember but which meant something to her. A framed picture. 

He pulls out the picture and stares at it. It is him, as a younger man, sitting in a rocking chair. He is asleep. In his arms is their son, no more than three years old, one little hand wrapped in the fabric of his tunic, his cheek pressed to Sarek's heart, also asleep. The Sarek in the picture has a slight smile on his face, the young Spock has a look of deep and utter peace and contentment. 

Sarek never knew Amanda had taken this picture. 

He stares at the picture for a long time. Stares and remembers a time before the disappointment of Spock choosing Starfleet over the Vulcan Science Academy, when the boy was small, appearing as a true Vulcan, but with his mother's unique capacity for love. Remembering that, as much as he taught Amanda about the Vulcan way, she taught him a great deal more about being human. Remembering a night when he held his sleeping son and whispered the three words, _I love you_ , into his ear, and the boy sighed and smiled and snuggled closer to him, totally trusting and happy. 

He wonders if, after all, it is such a good thing that he never said those words to his son when he was awake and able to hear him. 

A single tear forms in his eye. Vulcans do not cry, and this is something even Vulcans know. But Sarek is crying. 

From behind him, as he stares at the picture, he hears a quiet voice, at once alien and familiar. 

"In all timelines, in all universes, and in all ways, know that your son has always loved you." 

Sarek turns and sees the elderly Vulcan who joined them on the Enterprise, watching him with an expression of sadness and regret. "Ambassador Spock," Sarek says quietly. 

The Ambassador nods solemnly. "Ambassador Sarek," he says. "I have just spoken to your son." 

"How is he?" Sarek clutches the picture tightly. 

"He is well," the Ambassador says guardedly. But Sarek knows there is more. Vulcans are able to lie, by omission usually, but other Vulcans can always tell. Besides, the Ambassador is half-human...and a father can always tell. He waits. After a moment, the Ambassador admits, "But in grave danger. I know the man whom he faces, and in my own timeline, though we defeated him, it was at great cost." 

"What was the cost?" Sarek asks. 

The Ambassador is silent. Finally, he says, "I would not have told your son. It has always been my policy never to tell him anything that would change his destiny. His path is his to walk, and his alone." 

Sarek knows. "Then the cost was great--to you," he says, looking down at the picture again. 

"Yes. I saved my captain, and the crew of my ship--at the cost of my own life." The Ambassador looks at Sarek seriously. "That I eventually regained that life, and also my soul, is evident, but the story is a long one." 

Sarek nods, and does not ask for details. "I pray that he remains safe," he says softly. "I have already lost his mother. I cannot lose him, too." 

The Ambassador lays a hand on his shoulder briefly. "I will leave you, Ambassador Sarek. But do not despair. Your son will return to you." 

He turns to go. Sarek raises his head. "Ambassador Spock," he calls. 

The Ambassador pauses in the doorway and turns, a questioning look on his face. Sarek meets his gaze. 

"I know that he may not have always known how to say it," he says quietly. "But in all universes, in all timelines, in all ways--know that your father has always loved you, too."


End file.
